


Do I Dazzle You?: A (Mostly) Non-Ironic Twilight AU

by Darkmagyk



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, F/M, Happy Ending, Mostly Fluff, Sparkles, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/pseuds/Darkmagyk
Summary: He was beautiful.He was like some sort of dark dream.He was dressed all in black, with dark brown hair, a long face, and shocking red eyes against his pale face.***In which the vampires sparkle, Sansa's really into it, she and Jon fall in love, and I really do treat it mostly seriously.





	Do I Dazzle You?: A (Mostly) Non-Ironic Twilight AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylocrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylocrow/gifts).



> Happy Late Secret Santa too Tayl0crow. When I got you a month ago I stalked your tumblr a little bit and you had a lot of those Twilight resurgence posts. So you get a Twilight AU. Because I believe Sansa deserves to sparkle. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much to [israfel00](https://israfel00.tumblr.com/) for the last minute beta!!!!

He was beautiful. Some sort of dark dream. He was dressed all in black, with dark brown hair, a long face, and shocking red eyes against his pale face. 

He was striking, breathtaking, except, she found, she had no breath to take. 

He was not here. He existed only in her mind. For here was a dark room, though she had no trouble seeing in it. Here was something beneath the ground. A place of death and sorrow. 

Here she was. And she was hungry. And beyond the dark stone walls that surrounded her in this little chamber she could hear the shuffling of feet and the drawing of breath. She could hear the beating of hearts. And she could smell the intoxicating smell of a meal. 

She was so hungry. 

She was so hungry. 

She might never have eaten before. 

She must not have.

She ran, as fast as her legs would take her, faster than anything imaginable. 

She sank her teeth into the first woman she could reach. Sipped the sweet nectar from her throat and felt alive. 

But when her drink had gone dry, she went for the next. 

They screamed and they ran. A bunch of sheep in dull grey wool. 

She did not care. 

She was faster.

She was stronger. 

She could see them wherever they tried to hide. 

She could hear them wherever they tried to run too. 

And she was hungry. 

When they were all gone. When she could no longer smell the tantalizing smell. When she was something like satiated. She looked around. 

Another stone building, though it had colored glass windows and flickering torch and candlelights. 

A seven pointed star etched into everything. 

15 women, all in dull grey, lay around her. 

She stepped through the bodies with a sort of strange fascination. Finding a shiny brass plate on the wall, she wanted to see the creature that had caused this. 

Even in the torch light she could see herself. She was so very pale. Her face long but perfect for her features, delicate and beautiful. Her eyes were a vibrant red, as red as the blood that stained her lips. Her hair was copper but cropped short, like a few of the bodies who’s hoods had fallen off. She wore one of the dull grey dresses. 

She had been one of them. 

But that was over. 

They were dead and they were human. 

And she was alive. She was Sansa. And she was something else. 

She saw the man again. In her mind’s eye. 

The same long face as her. The same too-pale skin. The same red eyes. 

He was like her. And if she found him, she knew, it would all make sense. 

But finding him did prove to be a problem. 

She traveled up and down the seven kingdoms, then across the sea to Essos, so that she might see where he was going in her vision and recognize the spot. Beat him there. 

But years bled into decades which bled into centuries. 

She knew his name was Jon. She knew he was a warrior but that he was tired. She watched as his pale skin amassed scars. 

She knew she could offer him peace. 

For he was not the only one she saw in her visions. 

She saw a family. 

She couldn’t quite explain it. It was not like the families she saw in her travels. Parents and their offspring, smaller creatures who scream and cry, mothers who beg for anything but their babes’ death. 

The family in her visions are different. Ages mixed up and faces like her’s, bloodless and crystal. But just as much love as any humans she’s ever seen. 

And considerably less hate. 

They are like her and like Jon too, but they aren’t. They miss the blood red eyes she knows so well. 

Their eyes are a honey gold. Peaceful and free of the blood of humans, she knows from watching them hunt animals. Deer and bears and a few memorable times, lions. 

She tried it too, when the fear in humans eyes hurts some long buried part of her too much. 

And it is as easy as it is unsatisfying. She was as fast as the stag she found the woods, a odd line in the back of her head reminding her that crime of poaching. The creature bucked and snarled, but it was no match for her strength. And it’s eyes did not tear up like humans' were want to. She found herself unmoved as she sank her sharp teeth into its neck. 

She drank long and deep. And when she was done, she left its carcass among trees and bushes. And then checked a nearby pond, seeing the golden eyes reflecting with her sparkling skin in the still water. 

It was pretty, and it seemed to fill her up as well as anything. But it did not satisfy like the blood of humans. 

And the lingering scent at the nearby campsite did not help her. When her eyes darkened and the hunger returned again, she could not resist the taste of a human once again. She delighted in sweet taste across her tongue. But after the animalistic screams of the deer, the human cries of the woman haunted her. Even as she stared into the looking glass she stole off the body, comparing gold eyes to red. 

She wondered what Jon, who she’s only seen with red or dark eyes, would think of her one way or another. 

And sometimes, when she’d not had anything to distract herself, no visions of Jon or the family she sought, no human to talk to, no book she might read, she wondered about the time before. She’d met a passing few others of her kind and she knows they were once humans before they were turned to this living crystal. She was once human, though she has no memory before Jon and the Strangers house. The screaming of the Silent Sisters, the brides of death, loud when they faced their own. 

She wonders who she was beyond Sansa. Why she joined the Silent Sisters. And what color her eyes were. 

She doesn’t like such thoughts. When they invade her mind, it makes eating from the humans around her harder. Makes her remember that she was like them once, and that life was lost to her. Makes her not want to steal the same. 

So she drank from the unsatisfying deer, and the slightly better bears or lions. Predators were preferred, she learned. And examination of her visions confirmed that the family she stalked from afar also knew that. 

The more she tried, the easier it became. 

Humans were beings. And though they still smelled good, she was able to push away her desire, particularly when she was well fed on animals, and let them go in peace. 

It was good, because she saw Jon too, moving around people. Moving in places she thought she’d visited once. 

There was a little diner near Evenfall on Tarth. All neon lights and smiling waitresses. When she arrived, someone was playing some new record. Rock and Roll, all drums and guitar, was the new thing, and Sansa liked the beat as she climbed up to the counter. She bobbed her head to the music and looked around. 

She was sure the this was the place she’d seen Jon earlier. But there had been no exact date on the wall. Just a calendar signaling the fourth month. It was the first. But she was prepared to wait all 30 days if it meant she could meet Jon. 

She ordered a coffee and read a book. A history about the time before she could remember. All Kings and Knights, Lords and Ladies. The coffee grew cold, day in and day out. She stayed until she had to go back to the little motel room she had rented. Watching the little television, out of one eye, and the diner door out of the other. 

When the moon turned in full, she let out a sigh, tipped the waitress most of the rest of her cash on hand, and walked out into the city’s night. She found a little park on the water’s edge overlooking the Straits of Tarth. And sat on a bench, wondering at this beautiful little island, and if her Jon had ever managed to come here. If he might come later and make the sweet waitress a meal. 

The thought made her a little sick. Her name had been Bree, and she wanted to go to art school, though her Mama wanted her to stay home and get married. Sansa’s heart felt for the girl, when she described, one night, the only boy who’d been pursuing her lately. He was cruel and belittling. Liked to call her ugly and stupid. Sansa felt a kinship from a long forgotten part of her soul. A kinship with a human. 

Their kind had no real affection for humans as a general rule. And so Jon would likely have to be forgiven his appetite. But it was a cruel thing to think on. 

She returned to her motel room one last time, and watched as the TV played off with the Stormland’s Stag flag. She’d have to go hunting tonight. But her dinner plans were interrupted by a vision. Her Jon, again, in an area of woods she didn’t know, but that she thought looked very like the Riverlands. She’d need to eat, and then perhaps tomorrow afternoon she’d head out. She liked all the dresses she had with her too much to ruin them by swimming. 

The blowing in of a storm the next morning forestalled her plans a bit. And after she checked out, she considered going to the diner again. But she couldn’t bring herself too. 

Instead, she went up the street to the Castle. Evenfall Hall was much older then her. And she liked looking at buildings that were older then she was. They also gave tours every morning for a few dollars, and would keep her out of the rain. 

She smiled at the cashier with wide gold eyes, making sure she wouldn’t be caught asking for sure about being caught in the rain, making sure she also wouldn’t be caught in the sun. Then she went to peruse the gift shop while waiting for the tour to start. 

She was inspecting a silk flower wreath that she thought would look pretty in her hair when she caught the scent. 

A vampire scent.

And looked up to see who it was. The territorial Vampires mostly stalked the Westerlands. But some people just didn’t want to share even a square mile of space. 

Though if they were inside the giftshop, she hoped that meant they didn’t mind some peaceful coexistence. This was a land of humans, after all. 

She looked up the, across the gift shop to a man in a trench coat looking at swords. And when he turned, she could see his brown hair and long face. Pale as death. 

If she had any breath left, it would have caught in her lungs. 

She heard the announcement the the tour was suppose to begin. Her Jon put down the cheap replica with something like an eye roll and made his way to the tour group. She followed behind, doing her best not to use her speed in a way that might tip off any humans. And trying her best not to startle him into a fight or to hurting anyone else, she followed. 

His attention was not easy to get. And she listened with one ear about the noble house Tarth, once Kings and later powerful lords, while keeping her eyes on Jon, who seemed to take a great deal of interest in the tapestries and steel in various display cases. 

She’d been seeing Jon for a long as she could remember, but she wasn’t actually sure what time he’d come from. She was very old, as far as vampires went. About the human age of eighteen or nineteen. Jon was maybe a year or two younger when he was turned. But she didn’t know when that had been. 

He seemed to get caught out looking at a banner about as old as she was, from House Tully, a remient of the time the future Lady of the House was sworn to that house according to a historical account Sansa thought was rather full of more legend than fact. 

Everyone moved on quickly from it, but he stayed, just staring like he was trying to make the faded fish tell him something. 

She walked over slowly, sure he could hear her heels clicking on the stone walkway. The only sound, neither of them fidgeted, neither of them breathed. 

He turned when he got right up to her. His eyes, so far from eating as to be almost black, getting wide in surprise at the sight of her. 

“You’ve kept me waiting a long time.” She said, because it was true. She’d seen him a thousand years before, and had searched far and wide for this moment. 

But though she knew that and he didn’t, he did not ask for clarification. 

He merely reached for her. Though he knew they were both cold as crystal, his palms were soft and warm against hers. He raised her hand to his soft lips. 

“I’m sorry, My Lady.”

She’d never seen this moment. But it was perfect. It was how knights greeted ladies in the movies she loved, and the stories she’d loved before motion pictures were invented. 

He looked at her, lost, but not unhappy. 

“I was just about to leave the island to come and look for you.” She said and he kept her hand grasped in his. 

“I’m glad you found me.” 

She wasn’t sure how, but they made it out of the castle and to a dock, when she mentioned that she didn’t want to swim. He carried her suitcase, though it was no burden to her immortal body. 

He had no effects beyond what he wore, but he was charmed by her clothing. Charmed by her little compact mirror she used to determine what necklace to wear and if her hair looked nice.

They didn’t talk much until they got to the mainland. 

“Where will we go?” He asked her, looking out over the Crownlands’ port. He’s tuned up the collar on his coat and she’d wrapped her head in a scarf to protect themselves from the sun.

“The Riverlands.” She said without a second thought, and he nodded as though it were expected. 

But as they made their way to King’s Landing, she noticed his stiff posture, and way he turned his face into hers. His eyes were so dark, it had surely been a very long time since he’d had a meal. 

“I know you’re hungry,” She said, wrapping her arms around him to prevent any sudden outbursts. 

“No,” He insisted, eyes wide, “No, I can go longer, I know I can go longer.” 

She walked him into an ally without anyone, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “The Kingswood isn’t far,” She offered, “Let’s go there.” 

He nodded sharply, holding his whole face closed. When they had met she could make out the dark red of his eyes, but they were black now. It was a miracle he’d managed this long. 

She didn’t think she could have. 

Their steps where quick and hurried, and they ran fast when they could. It would have taken a human hours to get to the National park known as the Kingswood on food, but it only took them about an hour, working to stay unnoticed, her bags tucked away on the edge of the city. 

In the wide, human free air, Jon seemed to relax, at least a bit. “I’m fine,” he promised. “I was just…”

“Starved.” Sansa said, rubbing a hand on his cheek. “I understand.” 

He grimaced at her words. 

“I’m fine,” He insisted again. “As long as I don’t see anyone, I can go at least another week.” 

“A week, Jon. Your eyes are pitch black. You can’t wait a week, you’ll go mad.” 

He gave her a lopsided grin that did something strange to her normally still tummy. “I wonder if their are any caves or hollows around here. I can wait it out. Its for the best.”

“Why don’t you want to eat?” It was natural, instinctual. It was something they shared with humans and dogs alike. And yet a thought occurred to her, a thought she liked too much, “Do you not like to kill people?” 

He shuddered a little. His body shouldn’t do that involuntarily any more. Whatever he was thinking, it was a great burden. 

“I just need to wait.” He said, “If I can wait, I’ll be able to…”

“You’ll lose control.” Sansa said, softly, gently, reaching out and brushing his cheek. He was covered in scars. Crescent teeth marks covered all the skin she could see. The only thing she’d ever heard of that could harm their kind was another vampire. It hurt to think of the pain he’d suffered at other’s hands. “Let me help.”

“We can’t be helped.” He told her. It was barely more than a whisper. A sad confession. 

“Of course we can.” She promised, resisting the urge to kiss his cheek where her hand rested. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten. Have you ever tried an animal.” 

He looked as if she’d grown a second head. “Animals?”

“Yes, predators are best,” She said, “But deer will do in a pinch.”

“You’re serious.” He said, and he inched closer, his black eyes locking on her darkening gold. “Your eyes aren’t red.”

“No,” Sansa agreed. “If you don’t eat humans, you can stop the red.” 

“Can you show me.”

Not thirty minutes later they rested in a clearing and she got to stare into Jon’s gold eyes. 

“I know it isn’t as good.” Sansa said. 

“Its not,” Jon agreed as they settled into a empty clearing, full of sun and wildflowers, “But it's better. I’m so tired of fighting.” He gestured to his scared face. The sun shone in the clearing, there was no hiding his skin in it. It was beautiful even with the scars. “I’ve clearly seen better days.” 

“I think you’re breathtaking.” She said feeling a desire she barely understood at her core. She pushed past if for the moment, moving into the middle of the field. She couldn’t resist the sun, and she knew it would be the perfect distraction. 

She spun around, watching the refracted like from the crystals of her skin bounce off the trees in rainbows. Feeling her knee length skirt twirl with her. Not for the first time, she wished she had long hair that could whip in the wind with the rest of her. 

It didn’t seem to matter. She’d done this plenty, all alone, simply for the fun of it. But now Jon was watching her. She could only describe the look on his face as awe. 

“Do I dazzle you?” She asked, unable to keep from giggling. 

“More than you can possibly know.” He said back. His voice was soft, a barely a whisper to a human ear, but she heard him as clearly as anything ever. He did not stay on the other side of the field. He raced to her at top speed, and pulled her close to him. 

It was a strange sensation. She had no memory of being touched, beyond the occasional clawing of human hands as they died. 

This was different. And she fell into the strong hold of his arms, the safe feel of his chest. She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around his back, as tight as she could. 

She never wanted to let go ever again. 

“I love you,” He whispered above her, into the copper spikes of her hair. “I love you so very much.” 

Humans cried. She didn’t remember it. But she’d seen it. Had read about it. A strong emotional reaction brought it on. 

If she could cry, she knew she’d be doing it right now, into Jon’s chest. 

At how right and perfect everything felt. 

The vision that interrupted her was of their lips meeting. She could not wait for it to be reality. 

She had known she’d love him since she could remember, but to have him return her feelings after only a few days was more than she could have imagined. 

“Sansa,” He murmured into her hair. “Sweetling, it's alright.” 

She pulled back, suddenly, looking into his new gold eyes in confusion. “My name is Sansa.” She said. 

“It's a very pretty name.” he offered with a lopsided sort of smile. 

It didn’t quite have the same effect on her this time. She felt the same tummy flop, but it was joined by a feeling of missing a joke she’d much rather have gotten. 

Because though they’d been together for days, he’d not asked her name. And she had not offered it. 

“I haven’t told you my name,” She said, pulling back a little more, so she wasn’t touching him. 

“I haven’t told you mine, either.” he replied. The lopsided smile falling away did leave her missing it. She’d called him by his name a dozen times, and he not asked how she knew it, but this was different, somehow. Because he shouldn’t know her. 

“I have visions,” She said, “I see things, people, mostly. The future. Usually my future. I saw you. I’ve seen you hundreds, thousands of times. Heard your name plenty.”

“You don’t remember?” He said. A question, not a statement. 

“I remember you. You were the first thing I ever saw. The first thing I ever knew.” It had seemed so romantic just moments ago.

“But before,” Jon offered, “You don’t remember me from before.”

She wanted to scream that she’d obviously never met him. That her entire life had been leading up to meeting him, and she’d know if it had happened earlier. 

And then she froze, an imaginary weight settling inside her chest. “You mean when we were human.” A statement, not a question. 

“Of course when we were human, Sansa.” Jon came up to her again, and she let him. Let him run a sparkling hand through her hair and down her cheek. Took comfort in it, even if his words scared her. “It's fuzzy of course. And I know we weren’t as close. But I always loved you. Always wondered what happened to you. And I’m so happy to have found you.” 

And she’d been searching for this man for a thousand years. But perhaps he’d been looking for her longer.

“I don’t remember my human life.” She told him, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand. “I woke up one day. I saw your face and then I went from there.” 

She told him her story then. Of a lost little vampire girl, alone in the world, with only the idea of a man she wouldn’t meet for a thousand years to guide her at first. 

Of travels far and wide. Of books read and dresses sewn and hats knitted. Of sights seen and people killed for her own blood lust. 

When she’s done they are curled together at the base of a tree, and the sun has disappeared. 

She traced his healed scars with her fingers, and sometimes gave them kisses. And with that soothing beginning, He tells her a different story. 

It isn’t one of shared history. But it begins with him human and dying, killed by men sworn as his brothers. And then brought back by magic she knows well. But from there, he found himself drafted and drafted again, into various inter-vampire conflict for hundreds of years. The kinds of things she’d barely noticed in her solitary travels. But which he had the scars to remind him forever, though their minds were not made to forget a thing. 

He’d escaped his last war and was traveling now, giving everyone a wide berth. That he’d not noticed her was, apparently, quite a feat. Like her visions, he had his own gifts. He felt things, noticed things that others, even with the heightened senses, could not. 

It was that, too, that drove him away from human prey. He might be beyond humanity now, but ever time he saw one, he could feel their life and their being. And every time he killed one he could feel their tragedy. He hated it. 

It was light again when they were both done, sitting together in the shade, gold eyes to gold eyes. His hands on her. 

“Tell me something about my human life.” She asked, when their vampire histories were properly explored.

“You had blue eyes,” He said, brushing a thumb beneath one, “and you wore your hair long.”

“Was I pretty?” 

“Very,” He nodded, “Everyone said so.”

Their kind was always prettier than humans. But she thought she’d look very nice with blue eyes. She liked blue and she like sapphires. And the idea that she favored them as a result of some lost human memory was a comfort she did not know she needed. 

“Who…?” She could not finish, but Jon just nodded. 

“You were Sansa Stark, Princess of Winterfell.” 

Sansa Stark. 

It wasn’t a name that existed in any history book. But she had heard it once before, long ago when she had been a young thing. She’d been crossing the north, and over heard, in some desolate little tavern a couple of northerners express a hope that maybe their last princess was still out there somewhere. That she could come and reclaim the North for her house. 

She hadn’t known they’d want her. And she couldn't have reclaimed any houses even if they had. But it feel nice, deep in her soul. To know that she had been wanted, when she’d felt like such a cast off. 

“Then, who are you,” She asked Jon. 

He knew her, who had known Sansa Stark? 

His lopsided grin was sad when he answered, “Jon Snow, your bastard cousin.”

Jon Snow was a name that she knew, though she had thought him a fantastical hero of legend. No more truth to him then to someone like Bran the Builder. 

“You fought the Others during the long night.”

“I did,” He agreed, “But I was undead by then. So it isn’t nearly as impressive as it sounds.” 

“I certainly think it was impressive,” She argued “I was locked up in some Stranger house.” 

He frowned, “I wish I’d known. I’d have sought you out, put you back in Winterfell, where you belonged.” 

Something was missing from his tale, she thought, but she didn’t care. They had forever to explore the past. What was important was that she was Sansa Stark, and he was Jon Snow, and they were together again after a thousand years. 

She leaned forward and finally finally finally kissed him. 

His lips were soft against hers, and his hands his hands gripped her arms with a sort of desperation she’d never experienced. It lit the fire in her tummy again. And she found own hands gripping at his clothing, heard seams rip as she made to push it out of the way. 

“Wait, Sansa, no.” He said, pulling back but not letting her go. 

She frowned. Cousin, he’d said. He was her bastard cousin. Perhaps he didn’t feel right, or else he didn’t want her because of their relation. 

“I want you more than anything,” He said, as though he could read her mind, but perhaps that was just his talent, seeing the truth more clearly then all others. “But not yet, not here, not now. We should get married.” 

She blinked, and then blinked again. It was an unusual sensation. She didn’t need to keep things out of her eyes anymore. 

“Married?” Did vampires get married? Is that how they behaved. She’d never asked, though she’d met plenty of couples. “I suppose there's a sept somewhere around here.” It didn’t much matter to her.

He shook his head “No, no, nonsense. We’re in the King’s Wood, I know where we can go.” 

It took them a week to make it to Harrenhal. It would have taken four days, but they stopped so Jon could eat another deer, despite his gold eyes. She didn’t understand until he guided her into a little wedding boutique and watched as she tried on a small series of dresses. He smiled when she choose a dove grey one covered in white lace, the knee length skirt full and the cap sleeves off the shoulder. He even let her dress him in a suit and slick his hair back. When he was ready, he looked like he’d stepped out of a film.

Then they rented a boat to not soil their wedding clothes, and rowed across the Gods Eye to the Isle of Faces. 

In all of her time and travels, Sansa Stark had never been here. It had never held much appeal. It was just an old tourist trap filled with ancient trees and an awkward sort of religious cult. And yet Jon walked through as thought it was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen. 

“There used to be more weirwoods in the North.” He said, “Now they’re mostly here. Isn’t it beautiful?” He looked at her as though he was willing her to remember something, but she didn’t know what that something was. 

One of the strange men in green robes came upon them, looked at them and their clothes, and then motioned for them to find one tree or another. He watched as they said their vows.

It was a quick sort of thing, nothing like the sept weddings she’d seen in the movies. But it felt romantic, right, perfect. 

When they were done, he helped up from where she’d been kneeling and kissed her again and again and again. 

“We’ll get a hotel room somewhere and...relax,” He said, the suggestion clear. 

“We could do it here,” She offered with a giggled, “this seems like the perfect place to relax.” Jon looked back towards the priest who’d been watching them, but he’d gone. They were alone in the grove of weirwoods. 

She did not know if she’d been a maid before she’d become a vampire, but she’d certainly been something like it after. The feel of him inside and around her was like nothing she’d experienced. Not even the sharp song of human blood could compete with the thrill of pleasure and peak. 

And unlike humans there was no period of rest, not exhaustion. She felt closer to her husband then she’d ever been to anyone. And she thought, regardless of who she’d been before, Sansa Stark, Princess of Winterfell, had never been so close to anyone either. 

“Do you ever get tired of being alone?” She asked, when they’d stopped their lovemaking, just for the novelty of it. 

He traced a finger around her breast. “Yes,” He said, before leaning down and following his finger with his lips. “And now I have you back.”

“But what about others.” She asked, sitting up in what was left of the little bed. They’d destroyed the headboard and a couple of pillows, but the mattress was still functional. She’d have to leave a lot of cash on the chest of draws in the corner before they ran off. 

“I traveled with a couple for a century or so,” He said, stilling his hand, but still cupping her tit. “It was...awkward at the best of times. Companionable, but awkward. And I don’t know anyone who’d likely want to join with a recently mated pair. Particularly if we are going to look into an animal based diet.”

Sansa shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I have these visions. A place with other people. Like us, who doing want to hurt humans.”

“A vampire preserve?” He asked with a laugh. “A zoo, maybe, where curious humans tour us, and nice caregivers provide us with a lion every evening.” 

“No, a vampire family.” She said. “I’ve seen it. It’s almost like something television. Parents and teenagers. Big house, picket fences. Jon it's the most perfect place you could imagine.” 

“Vampires don’t have picket fences.”

“But they do, and they feed on animals. They live among humans. Jon, don’t you want to be part of a family?”

He froze, still as a statue, and then slowly closed his gold eyes and gripped at her hip. “I’ve not always had the best of luck with family.” He finally admitted.

“But we’re cousins,” She reminded him, though it was she who’d forgotten. “We were a family.”

“We’ve always been a family.” He said, firmly, “But it wasn’t always easy.” He pulled her close to him, as close as possible without being inside her again. 

He was her cousin, but as children they’d been told he was her half brother. Her father’s bastard. He’d loved his half siblings dearly, but she’d always been caught between her affection for him and pleasing her mother, who’d despised him for what he represented. They’d last seen each other when she was eleven, when she went off to be betrothed to a prince. And he went off to join the Night's Watch because her mother didn’t want him around anymore. The Night's Watch, a band of men, who even she knew had once called themselves brothers, who had elected him leader and then killed him in cold blood. 

It was not hard to see his worry about joining a family. He’d love the one they’d grown up with, and promised to tell her everything he could remember, but to try again after such rejections was a feat. 

He distracted himself by kissing her naked form everywhere, and then driving her to peak after peak. But eventually he sat back and asked “Where are they?”

“They move some,” She told him, without question, “But not as much as most do. And they stick to the North or the Vale or the Riverlands. I think they’re in the North now, near Wintertown.”

He was quiet as the seconds stretched out into minutes. But eventually he nodded. “I’ve not hunted in the Wolfs Wood for a very long time. It would be good see if they still had the best game. And I see no reason we cannot check on your vampire family.” 

They did not manage to pull themselves away from each other and a bed for another six days entirely. But eventually they left their motel, drank down a bear each, and turned north. 

It was the height of summer, and the Riverlands were having a boon of good weather, but it slowed their daily progress something terrible, particularly because Sansa preferred to travel closer to humans. And when the noon hour came, and the glittering skin just could not be hidden, she dragged them into a cinema to see the musical about Good Queen Alysanne she’d been meaning to catch anyway. She was shocked it took an entire 40 minutes to get out that Jon had never seen a moving picture before, though Sansa had been ducking inside since before they’d gotten sound some twenty odd years ago. 

And the smile on his face as they wandered back into the overcast afternoon made the rest of their trip even slower, as she made a point to get them to listen to the radio or see different movies. Anything to remind this beautiful and hollow man of good and humanity in the world. 

Especially when he slipped up near the Red fork, and sank his teeth into a man who looked at Sansa in a way that she though would have made a human woman’s skin crawl. 

Afterwards, they stood together in the little shower, even after the left over blood had dripped down the drain. And she tried not to linger on the taste of humans on his lips. As intoxicating as ever. 

When they passed into the Neck, it seemed as though a weight was lifted off of Jon’s broad shoulders, thought they seemed to come into even more direct contact with the human populations. 

“The Crannogmen have their own sorts of magic,” Jon explained, “It protects them, And it protects us from hurting them in turn.” 

And yet even when they came to the little town of Moat Cailin, Jon seemed more in his element then before. He called the North his home. Even detached as he was from humanity and their world, he seemed to relish being here. 

They had been married for nearly a month by the time they made it to the less-than-aptly named city of Wintertown. But Jon held her tight and fast and looked at her as if she’d hung the moon and all the stars too. She suspected such a look was reflected in her own eyes. 

Sometimes, as they hid from the sun together, he’d tell a story from their shared past. That she’d always been good with a needle and thread. That she’d always had a talent for writing and history. She was Sansa Stark. She had been then and she was now. Jon Snow loved her. He had then and he did now.

Once they’d actually made it to Winterfell, Sansa suddenly found herself shy. She’d seen these people in her mind for centuries, but to approach them suddenly seemed like quite a task. Even as she saw them all together in the future. Hunting and talking and being a family. 

They got a room in town, and while Sansa went shopping for new clothing so they could make their best impression. She left Jon alone in the hotel, hoping he was watching the state of the art Television in the room, and not staring out the window at the ruins of the castle they’d once both called home. Sansa wanted to go and get a closer look, and she could feel something like a connection to the foreign place. But her longing was of a lost memory, not a lost place and certainly not a lost family. 

“If you don’t like them,” she promised the next morning, after they’d spent a night in bed and the dawn hours getting ready. “We can leave. We’ll go somewhere else.”

“Together?” He clarified, and it broke her heart. 

“Yes,” She promised. “Together, from here on out.” 

She’d seen their house, on the edge of the woods, in many visions. It was less auspicious in person. Large certainly, because there was a family of six inside it and Sansa knew they’d be able to fit a seven and eight, but still, ordinary. Home.

Not the kind of place you’d expect a coven of vampires to live. 

“It really does have a white picket fence.” Jon said. She could hear people milling around inside already, and given how far out of the way they were, she suspected that the occupants could hear people approaching. 

It occurred to her too late that Jon, with his battle scars, was a walking vampire advertisement for danger. She could only hope that her lemon printed day dress and the white gloves clutching a matching handbag would balance it out. 

She rang the doorbell when it became clear Jon wouldn’t be able to. 

And they waited, hearing the voices inside ask who it could possibly be.

A woman opened the door. She was clearly a vampire, from her pale crystal skin to her golden eyes, but Sansa had never seen one like her before. Her long hair was white, and she was covered in deep scars, across her neck and face. Worse then even Jon’s battle wounds. In her visions she’d looked marked, but the extant in person was jarring and gave her a brittle, ageless look. 

She looked at both of them for several long minutes, as though not sure what she was seeing, and then she grabbed Sansa in two strong arms and pulled her into an crushing hug. 

“Sansa,” she rasped with a weak sort of voice, “My sweet Sansa.”

Sansa had no response, and after nearly 15 minutes she was finally released. As soon as she’d been hugged Jon had let go of her hand and she turned to look at him. The look he gave the woman who’s name she knew was Catelyn from her visions with nothing short of abject fear. 

He tensed when Catelyn reached a hand out to his face, tracing several of his scars. “Jon,” She finally whispered, “You poor boy.” And then pulled him into his own hug, that lasted nearly as long as hers. 

He looked utterly lost. 

“Mother,” called another voice, “who was it?”

And all of Sansa’s visions were apparently cloudy these days. Because the woman, about her age or a bit older, had only vaguely resembled Jon in her mind’s eye. But in person they had the same brown hair and the same long face. With their eyes at the same level of darkening gold. She could have been Jon’s long lost sister. 

And she ran to him as though she was, wrapping her arms around his neck with a cry of “Jon.” 

“Little Sister,” He said, ruffling her chin length bob. 

“I don’t think so,” She smiled, taking a step back and taking him in. “I think I might be older than you now.” and it was true, she looked closer to twenty, compared to Jon’s eternity at seventeen. 

“You are still shorter than me,” Jon countered. Pulling her in for another hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Arya said, “I can’t believe you’re one of us. I’ve missed you so much.” Her face fell as she looked at Catelyn. She gripped Jon’s arm with strength that would have crushed a rock, stepping between the two like she was going to defend Jon from Catelyn, despite her smaller stature. “Jon has to stay.” Her words as fierce as anything Sansa had ever heard.

“They’ll both stay, of course.” Catelyn rasped. “Of course they’ll say. They’re home. Forever.” 

Arya’s golden eyes seemed to find her, finally. She cocked her head, like a dog trying to discover something unexpected. 

“Sansa?” It was her name but a question. Jon and Catelyn had both been so sure. 

“Yes,” Sansa managed to say, perhaps someone here had a gift like her’s, some sort of future prediction. 

That didn’t explain the hug Arya launched at her. It was so forceful that Jon had to place a hand on her lower back to stabilize her. 

“You’re crowding them. Go let everyone know while I get them settled.”

Arya finally let go, but she only retreated a little bit. “Only Papa’s around. Robb and Rickon went hunting, and Bran’s disappeared into the past.” 

Catelyn let out what might have been a sigh but for the damage to her throat. “Go.” 

Catelyn began fussing with them as soon as she saw Arya off. “You’re traveling light, do you have anything?” 

“Our bags are in the hotel,” Sansa said, though they were really just her bags, and the two changes of clothes she’d managed to get for Jon. His wedding suit was a casualty of their first night. 

“We didn’t have rooms set aside for two more people. Which was really quite silly of us. But we’ll have plenty of space for you and…”

“Lady Catelyn, please,” Jon finally cut in. Sansa had not told him the names of their new hosts. 

She paused and looked at Jon, a frown on her scared face. “All this time, did you never find out about your mother, and your father.” 

Jon shook his head, “No, I know. But…” 

“Poor poor boy, all alone with a dragon to his name.” Catelyn muttered before leading then on. 

She put them in a lovely little parlor complete with a full and unopened bar and top of the line radio. Catelyn’s eyes just lingered on their clasped hands and where Jon’s thumb worried at her joint and left. 

But Jon didn’t relax when they were alone. 

“What’s wrong.” 

“Lady Catelyn and Arya.”

“Why do you call her lady?” Sansa giggled. 

“Because she is one. A Lady of House Tully, married into house Stark she’s… she’s…”

“House Stark?”

“Sansa, that’s your mother.”

The world spun, and she slumped down on the couch in the room. “My mother.” 

“Catelyn Tully of Riverrun.” Jon offered. Sansa knew Tully and she knew Riverrun, but not as family connections. “Your lady mother.” 

“And so Arya?”

“My...your sister. Your little sister. Or at least she was…” 

And Robb and Rickon and Bran, too. A family she had not even known to long for, though Jon clearly did. He did not let go of her hand as he recounted the connection and ages. Though Arya had looked older than her, and certainly older than Jon. And Rickon...infant vampires where a dangerous thing indeed. And they could get you killed so very easily. Though Jon had not seen him in something like two and a half years before he’d been turned, which had predated Sansa’s by at least three years. So perhaps he’d made it to his teens before his turning, too. She’d seen teenage boys with the family, but they all looked so similar she wasn’t sure she could have picked out who was who.

Still, it was almost too much to imagine. Her entire human family, right here for the taking. She curled into Jon, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing at her hair and her forehead until Arya came and got them. Sansa watched her eyes rake over every point of contact. Arya had grown up believing Jon was her brother. What did that mean, now? 

“I dragged Bran in from the yard,” Arya said, “Mother wanted you to come back down.”

“She seems…” Jon started, clearly not sure how to say unstable. Sansa figured it was not a good word to ascribe to her mother so soon after meeting her. 

“Yes,” Arya agreed. “The magic that turned her was...not done properly. But family keeps her calm. Though she can’t interact with humans too much. But she’s happy to have you here. Both of you. Even you, Jon.”

He was silent to that. But he did not break contact with her, even when they made it into the dining room. Around the long wood table were three people, though there was space for more. Catelyn gave a hint of a smile. And next to her sat a man about Sansa’s age, with the same hair. His eyes were a darker gold, and his expression pensive.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” He said, before returning to his mythology book.

Arya rolled her eyes, “Thanks for sharing with the class.” She accused, “Why do you always do this?”

She didn’t get an answer, but at least Jon whispered into Sansa’s ear, “That’s Bran.”

“Of course it’s Bran, who else would he be?”

She shared a look with Jon and then decided it would be best to speak, “I don’t remember anything of my human life.” It was such an accepted part of herself, but telling these people, four more people, who knew her from a time before time was daunting. They might, unlike Jon, expect something from her.

“What does that mean?” Ned, sitting tall and commanding at the head of the table, asked her. Her father. The first words she’d ever known him to speak to her. 

“That when I woke up from my transformation, the first think I knew was Jon’s face.” 

“You were there?” Catelyn, her mother, slung the accusation at Jon in an instant. And it was only Ned’s hand on her shoulder that had her return to seat. 

“No,” Jon said at the same moment she attempted to explain. “I have...visions, of the future,” She explained, “And the first thing I saw when I woke up was him. It took me so long to find him.” She couldn’t explain to them those long centuries of searching or the perfect completeness when she’d found him. She didn’t quite have the words for it herself. It was a feeling, not a thought. It was a sensation of emotions, not words. 

She smile, lifting their grasped hands onto the table so their family could see. “I don’t remember, but I knew, once I found him, I had to come here, and find all of you. I knew this was meant to be our family. That this was home.” Jon was not nearly as relaxed, but he held firm. 

Her parents, a strange thought, smiled a little at that.

It didn’t take long for Catelyn to sweep her out of the dining room and up through the house, pointing out the library and the television, where they kept the records and where they kept the piano. Back in the entry way she heard Jon speaking to Ned, words like _Uncle_ and _Father_ and _sorry_ muttered between them. 

“We might have to shuffle some people around,” Catelyn explained, as they traveled up the stairs to the back of the house. The entire far wall was covered in glass, as Sansa had known it would be. The view, like everything, was more beautiful in person. The sun was bright from that direction, and it sparkled off both mother and daughter’s skin, “So that everyone can have their own space.”

“I think that room has a nice view,” Sansa offered, of a door on the left.

“That’s Robb’s room,” Catelyn offered, “but I’m sure he won’t mind giving it up to his sister.” Catelyn at least did not mind. Though Sansa felt a stab of guilt at using a rather unknown connection to her advantage. “Let me call Arya to help move his things.”

Jon joined the three of them in short order, and they moved all of Robb’s things down to the garage without fuss, Catelyn promising that he liked cars, and would want to be near the rather impressive collection. Then Jon moved a leather loveseat from the library, without even asking permission, which seemed to take a lot from him. 

When Sansa’s _mother_ and _sister_ left, he collapsed on it next to her. 

“Later I’ll ask about getting a bed in here.” The way the sunlight streamed through the window and off of Jon’s skin was dazzling. And it made Sansa want a bed very very much. 

“You’ll have to be the one to ask your mother and father for that,” Jon advised, even as he pulled her close to him, but not close enough with their clothes in the way. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind.” She said, curling up against him. “Perhaps we’ll even have another wedding. So out family can be there, and we can take pictures.” 

“I could get you a ring,” Jon offered. 

“What parents wouldn’t want a man like you for their daughter.” 

The little hum Jon gave clearly signified his disapproval, but he simply rubbed at her arm and didn’t say anything.

“And it doesn’t matter, because you are mine and I am yours until the end of our days. And my love, I do believe that’s forever.”

That earned her a kiss. Long and hard, with no need to stop for air. 

Forever. 

***Sixty Years Later***

“Jon and Sansa are together, like together, together.” That got his attention, and Jon turned his head just a bit, so he could hear Jeyne telling the new kid all about the Stark Family and their weirdness. 

“But, they’re siblings?” The new kid said, more interested then discussed. 

“Yeah,” Jeyne agreed, “But like, not technically. Sansa and her brothers are like Mrs. Stark’s niece and nephews and Jon and Arya are Mr. Stark’s. So they aren’t actually related.” 

It took a lot of effort for Jon to not burst out laughing at that, which would surely cause something of a commotion in the lunchroom, given their whole families stoic reputation. 

It also took effort to not reach to the wedding ring he wore on a chain beneath his shirt. Such a movement would call the attention of his siblings, and if they weren’t currently listening to the gossip about themselves, he didn’t want them to start. The status of Jon and Sansa, even after so many years, was still an awkward subject between them all. 

Rickon started recounting an incorrect history lesson, and that was much more interesting then the new kid. And so he listened to the story of the terrible medievalist article Rickon had read in his Westeros history class, and vaguely been happy he hadn’t had that teacher last year. He’d have likely yelled about such interpretation of the Young Wolf’s campaign. 

But Robb didn’t seem to mind, and Jon need only look at his eyes to know the angle he was looking. Straight at the new kid. 

Sansa squeezed their linked hands under the table, and shot him a smile. 

Sansa did that all the time, and Arya even rolled her eyes and muttered something about saving it for the bedroom. But Jon knew better. He knew everything about Sansa. Every tick and every expression, every smile. It wasn’t her bedroom smile, it was her “I know something you don’t, and it's going to make you laugh,” smile. Jon noticed things, and Sansa had a lot of smiles. 

He refocused on Rickon, though, because Sansa wouldn’t share until they’d left the table and were in the back of band together. If she wanted to share with the family, she’d have shared already. 

Arya made a few disparaging comments about anti-Stark southern historians. And Jon commented on his own annoyance at Targaryen stans from a history perspective. Sansa offered a joke about modern historical analysis' lack of magical research, and Jon wondered what Bran’s take would have been if he hadn’t been too lost in the past to skip school today. Probably a reminder about how dismissive of magic maesters had been in their youth too. Sansa didn’t remember that. But there was no point in dwelling on it today. 

She didn’t need to remember the past to be part of her family today. 

Robb didn’t say anything. And his eyes tracked the new kid until period change. Jon started. Something about him looked familiar, but in the old way hazy memories of human life did. 

His family, his death, and his time with the Wildings burned brightly from before. But everything else was vague and unimportant. Whatever the new kid reminded him off, didn’t matter. 

He was setting up his kit in the back when Sansa muttered, too quiet for the humans to hear, “Robb’s smitten.” 

“What?”

“Or well, he doesn’t know it yet. But I saw it, he’s going to be. The new kid, you saw him at lunch. Theon Greyjoy.”

“Theon Greyjoy?” The name didn’t mean anything to Sansa. They told her all about the past, their human lives together, as a family in Winterfell, but Theon Greyjoy was a disappointing footnote no one wanted to relieve. 

But the memory made sense now. Even though the hazy human recollection, this boy didn’t look exactly like the man he’d known at Winterfell, separated by a thousand years. But the resemblance of there. 

“Smitten?” Jon asked, rather than think on the destruction of his childhood home and the person who’d caused it. Theon couldn’t even have had children. If this Theon Greyjoy was related, it was through a distant line. He couldn’t hold it against the poor human. 

“Smitten,” Sansa agreed, “I’ve seen it. He’s going to be quite beside himself with affection. It will be cute.” 

Robb cute and in love with some random human at their high school. Now that did sound like a bit of fun. 

“As long as you don’t get distracted by Robb’s little love story that you forget about our own.”

Sansa wore her wedding band and called it a promise ring, and he rubbed a knuckle against it. But she was bolder still, and leaned in to kiss him, despite school policies and their instructions to not cause trouble. Aunt Catelyn was particularly firm on it. She’d warmed to him, and to the idea of Sansa so loved. But she still had propriety to be concerned with. Sansa usually liked to humor her lady mother. 

“Never my love.” She replied when she pulled back, just a little. “I waited for you a thousand years. Nothing will ever be a better love story than us.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my .[tumblr](http://darkmagyk.tumblr.com/)


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